Journey of the Maimed I: Blind
by Leedle-leedle-lee
Summary: Hermione was blinded at the Dpt. of Mysteries and Neville lost a leg. No one else, except Harry, lived. Then Dumbledore sends the three to his brother - Gandalf the Grey. They, along with another who's not-so-welcome, join and journey with the Fellowship.
1. Friends Die, Friends Live

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This will be a very serious fic.

... Yes, I know all my friends are gasping and running in circles screaming, "OMG! LLLEE IS WRITING SERIOUSLY! IT'S A SMALL MIRACLE! ... OR A SIGN OF THE UPCOMING APOCALYPSE!"

Now, all random urges aside - I want you to actually think about this.

Imagine what it'd be like to live blind. To walk through the world without being able to see it. Darkness. I want you to think about what would make your life more complicated.

You'd never be able to read. Writing would be hard. Color would be a faded memory - if it's a memory at all.

But don't dwell on it too long.

A quote from one of my favorite stories - "Smile, Oliver, the sun is rising."

Yes, your name is not likely to be Oliver, but you get the message.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Oh, and the quote is supposed to be centered. Dang fanfic wasn't letting me center - kept screwing it up. Eh, so is life.

I just reread my story online - it's perfectly fine. How odd. And snooty.

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_"When you watch someone for long enough, you'll learn more than you'd ever believe._  
_And the blind... Oh, if you watch a blind man long enough,_  
_You'll find he's blind to nothing at all."_

_- Tiffany Cohoon_

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We were running through the Department of Mysteries. Everything was a blur. I turned when I heard Luna gasp, and then gasped myself. Ron had somehow gotten himself cornered. Both Harry and I moved towards him, but it was too late. Much too late.

There was a small flame ball that flew from Lucius Malfoy's wand. It hit him square in the chest.

I didn't have enough time to look away. The ball entered his chest, and he seemed to fold in on himself. Melt, almost. In a second, only a smile pile of ashes sat where Ronald Weasley once stood.

I felt faint, and instinctively shot a obscure curse at the blond snob. He went down, and I scooped the ashes up numbly. I created a small jar to hold it - him - them - oh, I don't _know_. I tucked the jar and ashes into my pocket before casting a silencer on Dolohov, who was aiming some type of spell at Luna.

He spun towards me, and mouthed a spell. _Meranincio._ There was a streak of purple light flying towards me. And then all was silent and black.

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I could open my eyes. I knew they were open. But everything was black. Dark.

Like when you stare into the deepest parts of a forest - at midnight.

My hearing was suddenly sharp. I could hear soft breathing on one side of me. Someone shifted, cloth sliding against cloth, and the deep breathing continued. I'd never been able to hear things like that.

There was a moan. It came from my right. I recognized the voice... Harry.

He groaned again. He was moving back and forth. I put my hand out towards where I heard him. By some stroke of luck, I grabbed his upper arm.

He continued to writhe. I sat up and swung my bare legs off of the bed. Or at least, it felt like a bed. My feet touched the floor. It was cold, frozen. I shuddered, and then heard a gasp from the person on whom my hand currently sat.

My head swiveled - and I saw nothing. More black.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, his tone marveling.

"I can't see."

He sucked in a huge breath. "You can't?"

His voice shook with my head.

"Why?"

"Dolohov's spell. I recognized it. Is Ron..?" I trailed off.

I could hear Harry shake his head. He caught himself, and said emotionlessly, "No. Ron's... I'm sorry, Hermione. Really."

"He's gone, isn't he?" I, too, seemed to have lost the emotion in my voice.

There was a shuddering breath. He grabbed my hand. "Yeah. I've been staring at his ashes for a while now."

"Can you hand me them, Harry? And my wand?"

He was shaking when he handed me the wand. I held it, relishing the feel of the oak. A smooth jar was put into my hand. All feelings left me like water would from a drain.

I took a breath. "This is for Ron," I kept chanting under my breath. I knew he was dead. And I knew I had one last thing I could do to make sure we could remember him.

So I divided his ashes into two floating piles. Before, I had hated it when he'd told me in great detail of how he wanted to be cremated. Yes, Ronald Weasley was capable of deep thought. He'd said he wanted to be cremated, and then made into two diamonds. One for me to put onto a necklace that I would wear at all times, and one to put into a wizard's watch for Harry.

And so I did just that.

Well, I firstly used a spell I'd found deep in a book. It created the watch - minus a glass covering that went over the part of the watch that faced up. And so I used half of my best friend to create a flat diamond that I slipped into the front of the watch. It was easy work, and I really didn't need to use my sight.

I handed the watch to Harry. "It was his wish for him to be worn by his best friends."

Harry wasn't breathing as I heard him slip the watch on. Then he sighed. "It's beautiful. How - how did you know?"

"I..." ..._couldn't finish._

And with that I created a silver (as far as I knew) chain and empty pendant. Then I used the other half of Ron to create the diamond. It must've been exquisite. I could feet that it was roughly the size and shape of an egg. Well, the back was smooth and flat, like it'd been cut down the middle. The front had a graceful curve. Ron would've been happy.

I assembled the necklace silently, feeling it over for any part that could be blemished. Everything was perfect.

Then I slipped it on. The necklace automatically clasped, and I felt comforted. Like Ron was still here - just out of sight. But, sadly, everything was just out of sight for me.

"I'm sorry. This is all my fa - "

"No, Harry. It was my own stupidity. If I would've hit Dolohov with one of a million other curses, this wouldn't have happened."

"But, you're blind now! You can' - "

"No buts. My fault. Now, help me stand."

He was really hesitant. I heard him stand, then take a step to move in front of me. I felt a hand on my shoulder, then one on my wrist. "Do you want help up, too?"

I shook my head and hoisted myself into a standing position. Harry was beside me now. I could hear his breathing.

"You okay? Need water? Food? I can go down to the kitc - "

"Harry."

" - Dobby make some, if you need. And - "

"Harry."

" - have a nice cloa - "

"Harry."

I heard him blink. It was odd how I knew he did. "What?"

"Just tell me if I'm going to trip over something."

I took a few laps around the room, just getting used to not being able to see where I was going. Harry was a perfect guide, maneuvering me around the beds and describing the Hospitial Wing to me in great detail.

I felt I could deal with this hurdle.

Braille would be a new learning experience? I loved learning, right?

"What time is it?"

Harry's hand left my arm for a second. "2:30 am."

"How long have I been asleep?"

I could feel him tense beside me. "Three weeks, six days, four hours, thirty-two minutes."

"Oh."

We were silent for a bit, him steering me gently.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Have my parents been informed?"

He was quiet.

"Have they?"

"... You've been pronounced as dead."

I took a deep breath. "W-why?"

"You died twice. Madam Pomfrey has been watching you like a hawk."

"Why did someone tell my parents I'm dead?"

I heard him reach up and rub the back of his neck - once again. "Dumbledore said it would be for the best. He said that when you woke up, he had something important to show you and I. Neville, too."

"Ginny?"

"Hermione..."

I could hear him continue, even if he didn't say anything. The words just hung in the air, torturing us both.

_Ginny is dead._

"Poor Molly," I muttered.

"Poor Molly," he agreed.

"Is she okay?"

"No. She's doing as well as you can expect for someone in her situation."

I sighed. "So Neville and you are all fine? What about Luna?"

Harry took a small breath. It was more than enough for me to understand.

_Luna is dead, too_.

"How did she...?"

"She was protecting Ginny after you'd been hit. There was an odd double spell, and suddenly both of them were dead. I checked for pulses... Nothing."

He was guilty. I could feel it. I could nearly ___see_ it.

"And... Neville's... Neville's lost an leg."

How could things have gone so wrong? Why?

"He got hit by some spell - _Sectumsempra. _It hit his leg, there was some blood. That's it. He's fine now. Got some type of muggle walking leg. It's made of steel."

"Ah. I've seen different versions before. But they're really expensive. How'd he buy one?"

Harry paused. "I bought about six of each version for him. He's going through physical therapy. Well, he finished yesterday. Now he's just practicing walking. You can barely notice it now."

I nodded to myself. Poor Neville. Learning to walk again... I couldn't find the strength to do so.

"So only you?"

He nodded, and caught himself again. "Yes." His tone now had a bitter edge. Like I'd just insulted his father to his face. "I'm the only one."

"Who did Dumbledore want?"

"Neville, you, and myself. Once Neville learns how to walk, you get used to seeing nothing, and I 'learn to cope with the guilt'. I'm not sure that's going to happen soon."

I patted him on the shoulder.

"You will." I heard him look at me. "Get over the guilt, I mean."

"No," he said, his voice craacking with emotion.

"Well, I'm about as used to being blind as I can be. Why did Dumbledore want us?"

"Something about a trip."

It was quiet between the two of us for a second. "Where's my clothes?"

He started blushing. I could actually feel the heat. "Over here."

He showed me back to the bed, thrust some clothes into my hands, and hurriedly pulled the curtains around my temporary bed shut. I felt a pair of Muggle jeans, a wool jumper, trainers, and a few other necessities.

I dressed as quickly as I could, trying my best to make sure everything was on like it should be before standing and pulling back the curtain. Harry rushed to my side, and I couldn't help but giggle a little.

Until I remembered Ron wouldn't be here to make some obnoxious comment.

I sobered. Quickly.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"To the common rooms. Then we'll all go to Dumbledore."

We treaded the familiar path back to the Gryffindor commons, Harry talking about what was around me as he made sure to lead away from anything that could trip me up.

Harry dropped me off by a couch, and ran up to the boys dorms. At least, I believe it was the boy's dorms. I didn't hear him go sliding down.

It was a short time later before I heard the soft _clunk_ of footsteps. I twisted, trying to hear. There were two sets of feet, two sets of breathing. One hitched at the top of the staircase, and then I heard something like: _clunk, thum, clunk, thum, clunk, thum._ It was someone rushing down the stairs towards me.

"Hermione!"

It was Neville. He sounded surprised. I guess Harry had filled him in up stairs. "Hello, Neville. How are you?"

I felt someone dropping down on the couch beside me. A calloused pair of hands took mine. "I'm fine. How long have you been up?"

I shrugged. "A while. We need to go."

"Yes, yes," Neville sighed. "But firstly, I need you to tell me about what happened to Ron's ashes. And where you got that diamond."

"That diamond _is_ Ron. I converted his ashes. He'd said that he'd seen a commercial - like on muggle TV - for changing the deceased into a diamond. He'd told me..." I choked a little, but continued on. "He told me that he wanted both Harry and I to wear him at all times... So we are."

Neville's voice was full of awe. "You made that diamond? Even when you were blind?"

"Yes. Now, Dumbledore wants us. Do you know why?"

"No. But he did tell Gran that I didn't make it... I can imagine how relieved she must be."

I was quick to shoot that thought down. "No. I bet you she's just as sad as my parents. Now, c'mon. If I run into a wall, I blame you."

He helped me up with a laugh, grabbing my left arm to keep me by his side. Harry was quick to take my other arm. There was only the slight _thunk _of Neville's prostetic leg on the ground to alert anyone to our presence. Until I was hit with an idea just before the Fat Lady swung closed.

"Harry, do you have the invisibility cloak? Or a trunk? Or my clothes?"

His hand left my right elbow, and I heard him run to the portrait. It is odd how I couldn't see, and yet I knew things like this. Very odd.

"So, Hermione, how are you feeling? Y'know, with the blindness and all?" Neville's voice was soft. Nothing more than a whisper.

"I guess I'm doing fine. I feel so... _Dependant_. I don't like it. Otherwise, I guess I could get used to living like this. But one of the two of you will have to read to me. A lot."

Neville's laugh was throaty. I'd never noticed that before. Maybe something positive would come from this. Out of nowhere, I was gripped by the sudden urge to see him as best I could. I felt bad about not being able to remember his face that well. We'd been around each other for years, and yet I still couldn't remember his face.

And so I said one of the craziest things I'd ever said. "Neville... Can I touch your face?"

He was startled. I knew that by the way he froze. "Why... Erm... Why would you want to touch my face?"

I laughed a little. "I want to see if I can build a mental picture of you."

I felt him shrug and lean down to my level. I hate this shortness of mine. Really, who needs to be 5'0? It only got you called 'cute' or some other variation. Cute was what you called your cat, not your friend.

I shoved these thoughts aside and tried very hard to wipe my mind of everything. I was very careful as I put my hands on his nose. It was straight, if anything. His eyebrows were thin, and I could feel the wrinkles forming on his forehead. I felt his entire face, pausing only on his sunken in eyes.

Yes, I could tell they were sunken in.

Harry's voice shocked me out of my findings. "Hermione?"

I heard Neville jump back as if Harry had just cursed him. There was a clatter, and then I could hear him pivot towards where Harry's breathing was coming from. I simply turned, reveling in how silent I seemed to be now. Maybe my body was simply being quieter, since it knew I was mostly relying on hearing only.

Whatever the reason, I was quieter as a whole. Everything from my footsteps to my breathing. It was actually very nice. I felt _graceful_. Never in my life had I felt graceful. Or any type of grace at all. I always felt like the ugly duckling that wasn't turning into a swan any time soon. But now wasn't the time to think of nursery rhymes.

" - Hermione? Are you listening?"

"No, Harry, I wasn't. I was thinking about... Stuff. What were you saying?"

He cleared his throat. "What were you doing, touching Neville's face like that? Is there something that you haven't told me?" The last sentence was joking.

I didn't feel in the mood to laugh.

"Harry," I said, my voice sounding... Odd. Different. Like I'd seen the deaths of many, and had buried them all. A very haunted voice. I didn't like it. Not at all. "I'm not dating Neville. I was trying to get a feel for his face. I'll do the same to you, if it makes you feel better."

Harry managed a weary chuckle. "Later. I've gotten all your things packed, along with Neville's and my own. Let's just go to Dumbledore, tell him you're up."

I smiled at him with a tight, utterly exhausted smile. I heard Neville's mismatched feet coming towards me, and then he was back to holding my left elbow. Harry was at my right seconds later, and we resumed our walk. Harry once again entertained me by telling his own very detailed history of the Fat Lady's life.

But I still couldn't bring myself to laugh. I subconsciously reached for the necklace, which felt like it weighed absolutely nothing at all, and was washed over by a feeling of warmth. The fear was wiped from my mind, as was the depression and tiredness. I felt quite light, actually, and had the sudden urge to begin singing.

I let go of the necklace pendant, and all of the fear came back. All of the pain over loosing many of those near and dear to me. All of the other emotions I couldn't - wouldn't name.

How odd.

"We're there, Hermione. Start namin - "

"Harry Potter," a voice rasped. Harry nodded beside me. "You have been allowed into here without password. Bring your friends."

"Er," Harry stuttered with all of the grace of a man falling down a flight of stairs. "Thanks?"

"Good luck," the voice replied ominously. There was the grinding of stones, and then the soft _whoosh_ of what was the golden eagle statue coming out of the ground. Harry was overly careful as he led me to the top step. Neville was pensive. I could feel the emotion coming off of him in waves.

He, Neville, was the one to lean foreward and knock on the door.

"Come in," Albus Dumbledore's command floated through the air.

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**Leedle-Leedle-Lee**


	2. The Old Fool's Office

**See if you can guess who narrates this chapter. **

**Which is, by the way, dedicated to every single one of my reviewers. Especially the ever so lovely and amazingly sweet preciousteddybear, who added me to her fav story list, reviewed me, and put an alert on me. Also, I'd like to thank my dearest johahptw, who was kind enough to review me after I'd whined at him or her. **

**Good people still exist, contrary to popular belief.**

**Oh, and this entire story is dedicated to my beloved Kyna. My sanity is in your and Mrs. H.'s hands.**

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My father had been caught. He'd been caught by that mudblood Granger. A _mudblood,_ for Slytherin's sake!

My mother was in hiding. She'd taken a few of her things from the manner, and then was nothing more than a shadow.

At least Father'd wiped some scum like the Weasel off the face of the earth before he'd been carted off to Azkaban.

I sighed. This was not the time, nor the place, to think about family. They had made a fool of me.

There was a movement to my left. A brilliant phenoix had appeared. I watched as it came towards me. Its claws dug deeply into my shoulder, and then I had the feeling of apparating. I landed in an office. Dumbledore's office, to be precise.

The old fool was standing beside his desk, staring directly at me.

"Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Why?"

I wasn't to leave for another few weeks.

The old fool read it off my face.

"Our other three travelers are ready now. We must leave. My brother sent a message."

"Oh." I knew I sounded shocked. "I'll get my things."

The fool waved a hand and the phenoix left in a flash of flames. "Fawkes will take care of it for you. Your other travelers shall be here momentarily. Do you have the instructions?"

I quelled the urge to roll my eyes at the idiot as the phenoix flamed back into the room. Of course I knew what I was doing. Instead I kept up the mask of a innocent boy and nodded before shrinking my things and putting them in my pocket.

"Good. I want you to be respectful. You could come to like - love even - those who will come with you."

I couldn't resist the urge to know. "Who is traveling with me?"

The old idiot smiled. Smiled at me. Like I was some first year mudblood looking for my wand. Fool. "You'll see." He then raised his voice. "Come in."

The door opened. The-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die came in first, holding the mudblood's wrist. Blundering after them was the blubbering idiot known as Longbottom. He was clutching at the mudblood's other wrist. How...

Sickening.

But the fool just continued to smile. "Good evening, Misters Potter and Longbottom, as well as Miss Granger."

The mudblood looked to me. Her eyes were blank. "Harry, who's sitting there?"

Potty looked towards me, stiffened, and pulled her closer. "Just a ferret. Come here, let's sit you down."

Her eyes were staring blankly ahead as he led her to a chair as far from me as possible. How odd, the mudblood acting as if she couldn't see me. Most women groveled at my devillishly hansome feet. But she was also a mudblood. No mudblood could hope to even lick the slime off my shoes.

Dungbottom sat on her right, and Potty stood behind her like a guard dog. He had his hand on her shoulder while Dungbottom weaved her fingers through his. My, my... How many boyfriends did she need?

My attention was adverted back to the old fool when he cleared his throat.

"Ms. Granger, I have already filled your other traveler in on what'll be happening."

The mudblood looked at him blankly. Potty was the one to talk. "What will be happening?"

The fool shifted uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze. "Well... Mister Potter, you and your fellow travelers will - "

"Be going to an alternate dimension. J. J. J. Tolkien wrote it in his book series, The Lord of the Rings," I said, just to speed things up. "I'm sure you've read it."

Or I was going to speed things up, until she looked at me.

Her eyes were brown, with little gold flecks around the edges. But they had no emotions. They seemed to be glazed. Or stuck staring straight ahead. It was nearly impossible to remember what I was thinking about when Herm - _the mudblood_ - she was a mudblood. Not Granger or... Anything else. Just the mudblood.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Her voice was something else. I'd never heard anything like it. It made me want to shudder and hide, yet it made me want to suddenly act like a brave and idiotic Gryffindor. This voice didn't belong to _the mudblood. _It belonged to some type of soldier, one who'd seen everyone in their platoon dead. One who had seen too much, heard too much, and done much too much.

Somehow, I couldn't answer. Her voice had actually struck me dumb. But Potty gladly jumped in. "Malfoy."

Her face became cold. "Senior or Juinor?"

"Junior."

Her face cleared. She untangled her fingers from Dungbottom's and leaned across him. Potty's eyes looked ready to burst. "Hello Draco," she said, her voice was soft but still had that sound of someone who'd seen too much. "I am sorry about your father."

She held out a hand. I stared at it for a long time. No one, except for my mother, ever called me Draco. I had the overwhelming urge to just take it. Fling myself into whatever was coming. Face it head on, like some idiotic Gryffindor. And so I took her hand and shook it.

"Is he okay?" she asked me, her blank eyes still staring foreward.

"My father?"

She inclined her head slightly.

"I don't care, really. He's in Azkaban right now."

She leaned back and let Dungbottom take her hand once again. "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't like him at all for what he did to Ron, but no one deserves to dwell on their worst memories. His last years'll probably be like drowning - slow and painful."

I nodded once sharply, somewhat amazed she was being civil. My father had killed one of her closest friends, and yet she was here shaking my hand. I had no idea how she must've felt. I'd never had a friend to loose. All Slytherins were nothing more than partners in busness.

So did that mean she was my friend? Which would make her my best friend by forefit.

How odd.

"Hermione," Potty started, his hand back on her shoulder. "What did you just do?"

"We'll be traveling with Draco for some time. I feel we should all be friends. And what else do I have to loose?"

He sputtered. The old fool decided to talk at this time. I watched how his words affected Hermione. I guess, since she was my best friend, I should call her Hermione. Or maybe she wasn't my friend at all, just simply trying to get through the next few years with someone she could know wouldn't stab her in the back at random.

But I needed a friend. I really did. And this sudden realization hit me like a ton of cauldrons.

I, Draco Malfoy, needed a friend.

So I watched Hermione as she absorbed the news.

Hermione, my best friend.

How funny it is, the way that so easily rolled off of my tounge.

None the less, the old fool began to talk. "Miss Granger, Misters Longbottom, Malfoy, and Potter. You four will be going on the trip of the centuries. Like Mister Malfoy said earlier, it has been pre-recorded for you in a series by the infamous Seer, JRR Tolkien. The Ring is something that ties the Dark Lords in both worlds to life."

"So we have to destroy the One Ring? Didn't Frodo and them already do that?"

Hermione is quite smart. Wait... Was he allowed to say that? Were you allowed to be a Slytherin and actually say that someone was smart? And what if the someone was from Slytherin?

My head hurts.

The idiot's obviously didn't. He continued right on, and I watched Hermione some more.

"JRR left a rough plan of how things should work out. It is up to you to make them happen as they should."

"Ah." Hermione seemed to be thoughtful for a second. "Does your brother know that I'm blind and Neville doesn't have a leg?"

I was shocked. Hermione - blind? She was _blind?_ She must've heard my breath catch, because she looked towards me. And now I knew why her stare had been so blank. She simply couldn't see.

"This happened to me because of Dolohov, Draco. This is what Death Eaters do to mudbloods like me."

Potty gasped. "Hermione, you're not a... Thing like that."

She smiled towards him sadly. "Harry. You blind, blind boy. I _am_. Death Eaters have always seen me as nothing more than a waste of magic. I've been told so multiple times."

I shifted uncomfortably. I was the one who'd told her those things. Called her a mudblood.

What was I feeling? Guilt? Malfoys did _not_ feel _guilt_. Never.

"You're not," Dungbottom told her softly. "You're the smartest witch of the age. You've simply hit a set back - just like me."

"Oh," she said, her voice still like she's seen too much. "I wasn't saying anything like that. I know I have worth."

Dungbottom was still holding her hand. I had just noticed that.

And then I connected it together. She'd been _led_ into the room. She _had_ needed help. Oh, she was going to need so much help on this trip. Of course, that slipped out of my mouth, which caused her blind eyes to turn to me.

"Of course I'll need help. I have both Harry and Neville to give it. So you're up to date of JRRT's series?"

I nodded. "Er, umm, I meant yes. Sorr - "

"I can hear it when people nod. There's no need to be sorry. It actually makes me feel a little bit more normal." She then turned to the old fool. "Where are we going?"

"In Rivendell, of course."

She murmured to herself for a second. "Before or after the Council of Elrond?"

The old fart didn't answer her, instead saying, "Good-bye my dears. Keep everything going as it should."

"Should we have other names?" Potty asked.

"No. I think not. Do you have your things?"

We all nodded.

"Well, let us go. Everyone stand."

Hermione had to have help from Potty and Dungbottom. I wanted to, but I knew that both would take it as a threat on Hermione and tackle me. She didn't seem to move as much as Dungbottom or Potty, who were both fluttering around her like worried hens. She turned her head to me, her eyes still blank.

"Mister Malfoy," the old fool said, breaking me from her eyes, "please step foreward. I need you all to have a grip on eachother."

I stepped foreward, and both Potty and Dungbottom moved in front of her protectively. She gently pushed past them and grabbed both of their hands before offering me her shoulder. I heard the old fool chuckle before the world pitched.

I was flung back and forth, with only Hermione's shoulder to hold on to. Then we landed on something hard. Hermione was laying on top of me. Both Potty and Dungbottom fell for a miniscule time longer, and hit the floor with two grunts.

Hermione rolled off of me softly, letting me sit up to see where we were.

Potty and Dungbottom were on two different sides of the pedastool where Hermione and I sat. We were on a patio, and surrounding us was a ring of men. Some were very short and hairy, some were whimsical with pointed ears. There were men, and then a man who looked like the old fool Dumbledore.

Potty instantly shot up and looked around for Hermione. He found her, and seemed to become calmer. She smiled at him soundly, like this was everyday travel for her and no different than pulling on a pair of socks. "Make sure Neville's okay, Harry. Let me get a feel for this place."

Potty obediently went to check on Dungbottom. I slipped off the table and stood in front of her. She stared at me for a half second, then grabbed my shoulder to help herself up.

"Do you need help? Potty's a little occoupied with Dungbottom at the second. Gandalf is over there," I began steering her towards the man that was obviously Gandalf. He had four open chairs beside him.

She pulled down on my shoulder, bringing my head down to her level. "I'm being stared at," she whispered in my ear. It was not a question.

I shivered slightly. I don't know if it's from her voice or if it's from just her. But I went back to steering her straight to Gandalf. Most of these men did not look like they were people to be reckoned with.

I was about to seat Hermione when an auburn haired man leapt out of his seat.

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**Yeah. Not that much of a chapter. I'm thinking of revamping it.**

**Review if you want. Don't if you don't.**


	3. The Fellowship is Formed

**Anyone who's read this so far - this chapter is for you.**

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"The woman should not be here," the man who had introuduced himself as Boromir growled at the oddly pretty girl.

I looked her up and down. She was quite beautiful as mortals go. Her hair was a little wild, but that could be corrected easily. She had rosy lips and a heart-shaped face. It was very kind, but had become cold at the bluntness of Boromir's tone. She was very short, but with an unique body. She would have been something else, had she been of my noble race. But what entranced me was her eyes.

They were like the dark woods of my home. They had the stars trapped within them, twinkling gold flakes scattered through the dark woods. But they stared blankly ahead, like she could not see a thing.

She turned to the man, her stunning face carved from ice.

The blond boy hissed from his position beside her. He tensed, as if preparing to fight. Her hand found his shoulder, telling him to let her handle the man.

"Women deserve to know nothing of this. They are too _insolent_ to possibly comprehend," Boromir continued, completely unaware of how insulting he was.

"And what have you seen of death, war, and horror?" she asked him.

Her voice was deadly and soft. But under that was a quiet strength shown by elves who had been around for thousands upon thousands of years. She had the voice of a warrior. A warrior who had been through one war too many.

I had never heard a voice issued from a mortal's mouth. Forget a mortal woman's.

"More than a mere _girl_ like you."

She smiled grimly.

That smile burnt itself into my eyes.

"Three weeks ago, I was struck down in battle," she told him quietly. "I had to watch my best friend die. That was actually the last thing I ever saw. My other best friend has been tracked by a madman all his life. Since I was eleven, I have been trying to keep myself and my closest friends alive. I know I have failed. And now I am nothing more than a burden to be shown the path. Another burden for my friends to bear. As for horrors..."

She broke off and laughed bitterly. I think every person shuddered. That was not a laugh for mortals to let escape themselves. That was not a laugh for any to let out.

But she continued on, her voice now very soft. Only with my superior hearing did I escape from having to lean forward.

"I have seen more horrors than you would be able to believe. Nightmares are my life, and my life is full of nightmares. And now I am blind, and I have been sent out to yet another war to help stop the other. Tell me, what have you done in your life that pales mine in comparison?"

Boromir was silent and still. Very still. "I- I am sorry, milady," he managed to stutter. "I had no idea..."

My eyes narrowed.

The ones named Harry and Neville seated themselves, leaving the spot behind her open. "You should never assume. Even about _mere girls_ like me. Now, may I sit?"

Boromir looked very shocked as he sunk into his seat. She dropped into her seat with grace I'd only seen around other elves. This mortal was something else entirely.

The blond boy sat between her and Harry. He ignored the glare the raven-haired boy sent at him, simply taking the girl's hand. She was silent, but her head turned to Gandalf when he began.

"These four have been sent here by my brother," he said solemly sparing a glance to none other than Lord Elrond. "They are important."

Boromir shrunk slightly.

Lord Elrond demanded Frodo put the Ring on the pedastool, and Boromir leapt up once again. He recited a poem that had come to him in a dream, then said that we should use the Ring.

The girl shook her head and sighed. The blond boy stared at him with boredem. Everyone else divided and began on how we should use the Ring.

Until Frodo's voice cut through the pandemonium. "I will take it. I will take the Ring."

He was quickly named the Ringbearer, and nine of us soon stood or revealed ourselves and were allowed to journey. Lord Elrond was about to speak, until Neville stood.

"I will go, too."

Lord Elrond accepted him easily enough, along with the other two men. Until the girl stood.

"I must go also, Elrond."

No one dared to call Lord Elrond simply 'Elrond'. He seemed as stunned as the rest of us. "No," he said, obviously smothering the shock. "I will not let a woman dwell among men for months, years even."

Her face became very cold. "And why would that be?"

Lord Elrond looked faintly uncomfortable. "You are blind, therefore you are a liability. And traveling with a woman is not a good omen."

"You are telling me I'm too weak."

He seemed hesitant. "Yes."

She nodded once. "I see. Elrond, try to say something."

His moth opened... But nothing came out. His eyes buldged for a second, and she waved a hand. "What type of magic is this?" he gasped.

"My magic. I can do much, much worse to you. Now, Elrond, do I seem very weak to you?"

He shook his head. "You may go with them. I beg your pardon, Lady...?" He let the question hang there.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

The blond, who was named Draco, and Harry both reached out to help her to us. I could see the faintest smile on her lips as she let them lead her. When Lady Hermione was in her place, Lord Elrond began to talk again.

"And now this fellowship of thirteen set out on the most noble journey. They shall be called the Fellowship of the Ring. This Fellowship will set out two weeks from this date. And now this Council breaks."

The Fellowship was soon left to themselves. Lady Hermione was talking quietly with Gandalf, Neville, Draco, and Harry. I could not resist the urge to listen in.

"You're Dumbledore's brother, then?" Neville asked, his hand in Lady Hermione's.

The old wizard nodded. "You are the four he told me of. However, he left out the fact that one of you was female and blind."

Hermione did not seem bothered. "Those in your time are very prejudice, aren't they?"

"Yes. I am sorry for that, my dear. I'm sure Boromir is not that bad."

"It's fine. I've met worse."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "I am sorry about that, Hermione," he told her, his tone sullen.

"It's in the past. Gandalf, is everything... Someone is watching me."

The huddle broke. I hurried into a conversation with Aragorn about our favorite weapons. I did not feel like being told off for listening.

Eventuially they began to talk again. Simple things, like directions to the rooms. Lady Hermione excused herself, claiming that she had something to do. The other three jumped to help her, but she told them quietly that she was 'okay'. I had very little understanding of their odd words and phrases.

She made her way past Boromir, who told her he was at fault for what he had said. She shruggged him off and continued carefully over to myself and Aragorn. She was silent, and her movements were very dainty. She obviously put thought into even the most minute twitch. She stood next to Aragorn.

"Aragorn," she asked softly.

He looked to her. "Yes, milady?"

"Can you not call me milady? It makes me feel old... Anyways, Aragorn, you're the king of Gondor."

Aragorn was very still. He seemed to have become a statue while she spoke. "How do you know of this?"

She shrugged. "I just do. Will the two of you lead me to some place where I can practice something in private? I believe the two of you would know Rivendell much better than I."

Aragorn took her hand. "It would be an honor."

She held out her other hand to me. "Are you coming too, Legolas?"

I was somewhat awed by her knowledge of my name. I buried the feeling and took her hand. It was soft, small, and warm.

She smiled at me blindingly. I tried very hard to keep my voice calm. "I fear I will not be of that much assistance, mil - Hermione."

Her smile did not dim. "No problem. I need a test subject, anyways."

I did not like how that sounded. Test subject. Subject to the tests of another.

I also did not miss Aragorn's muffled laughter as he led Hermione through a maze of corridors and doorways.

At length, we made it out to a small courtyard. Targets were lined around, hooked onto the stone walls. There was a few dummies to practice with a sword upon.

Hermione slipped her hand out of mine and Aragorn's. She looked towards us. "I want to practice something. Do the two of you mind if I use you? The spells will only stun, and if you get hurt I can heal you."

Aragorn instantly agreed. I was a little less hurried, but soon followed his example. Her smile branded itself into my eyes.

"Thank you. Now, just act like you normally would in a battle." She seemed to sense our astonished looks, because she continued. "Just trust me."

So Aragorn and I began to dart around, fighting invisible foes. Until I found I could not move a muscle. From the silence in the clearing, I think Aragorn wasn't able to, either. Hermione waved a hand, and then we could both move once again.

"Thanks. Now, could you find other people who'd be willing to be stunned one practice session? I think that Harry and Neville shouldn't see me firing spells. Overprotective..." She trailed off, obviously lost in her thoughts.

"Spells?" I asked.

She turned her head to me. "Yes, spells. Now, Harry and Neville will have lost their minds to worry by now, so we probably should be heading back. Uness you don't mind me trying stunning some more..."

Aragorn opened his mouth to answer, but Arwen's flowing voice cut him off. "Just _what_ are you doing to that poor girl, Elessar?"

We all spun towards her, but Hermione was the only one to keep composure. "He was helping me to aim since I'm accompaning the Fellowship on their journey. Who, may I ask, are you?"

Arwen dipped into a bow and assessed Hermione carefully.

"I am Arwen. Lady, I beg your pardon, but I must admit: you are dressed oddly."

Hermione smiled at that. "Yes, I know."

"May I escort you to our tailors? They can create traveling garb for you that will be pleasing to the eyes."

Hermione shook her head. "I cannot see, Arwen dear. I would rather wear clothes that are easy to move in. To defend myself."

Arwen looked mildly shocked but it didn't leak into her voice. "That can be arranged, Lady. What, pray tell, is your name?"

"Hermione. But don't call me 'Lady' or anything like that, please. It makes me feel older than I really am."

Arwen grinned at that, and held out an arm. "Let me take you, Hermione, to our tailor. I will make sure your clothes will protect you well."

Hermione gripped the offered arm and was soon swept away.

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**You know, this one just wasn't one of my best. Comment if you want, don't if you don't. Flame me, and I shall roast mini-weenies.**


	4. Polite and Gifted

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**I own nothing.**

**PEOPLES, I HAVE A POLL OPEN TO ALL YA'LL TO DECIDE WHO HERMIONE PAIRS UP WITH* IN THIS STORY!**

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The human girl was very polite. And she was shocked by the generousity that others of my kin showed. I was somewhat awestruck, too. Apparently word of Hermione's disability and her accompanionship of the Fellowship had spread fast through out my beloved Rivendell, and many dresses and tunics and breeches and shoes and other such things had been deposited into her room.

I described each and every article of clothing for her as she felt them. She soon asked my help to find a dress and the kitchens. Apparently she wanted some waybread for the journey. I would never of thought of it myself.

So I dressed her in a long summer gown. It was a dark brown, that brought out her useless irises. I pinned her hair up in a traditional elvish fashion, and laughed a little at how well it fit her. A simple pair of shoes later, and we were gone. All the while, Hermione and I had made conversation. I liked her witty humor, wry character, and blunt honesty.

I'd never met a human quite like her. Mortals usually became very bold or very faint among immortals. She simply acted as if I was nothing more than another mortal, which was a welcome change.

"Are we there yet, Arwen?" her quiet, battleworn voice asked, bringing me back from my daze. "I sware, this place is so much bigger than I'd been told."

"Yes, we're there."

I ushered her into the kitchen before leading her to a cupboard. I revealed hundreds of carefully packaged waybread loafs, and handed her enough to survive for four months or more. She stowed them away in a tiny brown shoulder bag, a donated one that she had supposedly spelled to be limitless and weightless.

She then hooked her arm though mine, and I steered her to our next stop - the armoury. Someone had donated a coat of chain-mail, and she was in dire need of a refitting.

And so the rest of the afternoon passed. I steered a blind woman around Rivendell, describing all I could. By dusk, Hermione claimed to tire, and I left her at her room to sleep. Almost immedaitly after, I was confronted by three strange men. One with raven hair, one pale blonde, and a brunette. All three had raving looks in their eyes.

"Where's Hermione?" the raven haired boy blurted.

"We can't find her," the brunette one informed me.

"_You two _can't find her," the fair-haired child corrected. "_I_ am simply looking for a blind girl who'd wandered off a few hours ago. Pray tell, have you seen her?"

"Yes," I told them slowly. "She is resting for the trip ahead."

They were soothed. I hurried them away from her door, sure that she wouldn't want an interruption from this sort. Soon, they were stowed away safely in their rooms, and I began towards my beloved.

I found him in the gardens, staring around him. "This age is ending," he muttered.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"Will you watch over Hermione? I do not believe she can defend herself on this trip."

"She is strong, Arwen. I fully believe she can protect herself."

We sat for a while longer, absorbing the night. It would be one of the last in this age.

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*** - Yeah, peoples... Sorry to tell you this, but the poll may not affect my choice unless I get some Reviews/PMs about why you think Harry/Neville/Draco/Legolas/No One/Your Choice should be the one Hermione falls for. If I don't get said Reviews/PMs, you don't get a choice. Yeah, life sucks. Live with it ... Or keel over ... **


	5. I Have Seen

**For those of you who wish for me to coninue authoring my own story as my own, you better thank Esperanza911 for giving me just the right nudge to get my little muse-ridden tushie into gear. I therefore dedicate this chappie to you, m'dear, with many thanks.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah. I forgot to tell you all that I own the entire world. Y'know, just sayin'.**

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I have lived for countless years, and have seen the development of man and the fall of the mighty tree-folk. Yet, in all of my centuries, I have never encountered a being such as Lady Granger. I have no particular wish to meet one like her again, in all honesty.

For two months, she and her companions have dwelt here. Today is the Fellowship's day to take leave of this place, and I feel I must review what may be their last safety until they reach the Lady of Lorien.

The 'wizards' have proven themselves with magical capabilities, though they're physically lacking a striking amount. I am not sure for their ability to last the trip, nevermind the battles sure to come.

Lady Granger is akin to them. Among the drawback of being female, she cannot see and thus needs a guide wherever she may go, taking one able body away from the Fellowship. Her magic is of another brand, entirely different from Mirthandir's, and the others seem to trust it inexplicably.

The hobbits eat a truly awesome and terrible amount of foodstuffs. Twice already, we have found the need to replenish our stores, something that before only happened every six wanes of the moon before they came. I do not have the faintest knowledge of where they hide all of it.

Lord Greenleaf has never paused in his squabbling with those hienous little dwarves (not that I can bring myself to blame him), and the particularily idiotic one that shattered his own axe in a folly with the Ring seems to relish in slinging back pitiful insults. Petty little red head, he is.

Estel has created a certain kinship with Lady Granger that slightly frightens me. He treats her as a daughter, and I find it highly uncouth for the future king of Minas Tirith to love an elf (my Arwen, no less) and treat a mortal witch as his child. It will not do. Especially since my Arwen has taken the position of surrogate mother to the girl, thus making her, in all but blood, related to me. I greatly disapprove of inviting such a dangerous, frail individual into the life of the immortal.

Then we come to Lord Boromir, son of Dethanor. I see a great potential for evil within him. He has the weak will of man, with the clouding of brawn to his brains. I have little hope for him, and even less trust in him.

Mirthandir... My old friend has been very secretive as of late. He seems to be constantly in discussion with the 'wizards' about many unknown topics. I have many worries and qualms of what he may be teaching those four. Lord Potter in particular. There is a feel of power about him, but very unbalanced, as if he could fall to darkness if pushed too far. I dislike it.

The wind was sour and bitter, wrathful almost. The skies were grey and seething. It did not bode well with me.

We gave our farewells in the great hall, beside a large fire. The Company had little gear of war, and were well furnished by my people - long, thick cloaks and jackets lined with many warm furs. Lady Granger had double that, thanks to my Arwen's insistence.

The Lady herself was lightly dozing on the shoulder of Lord Potter, who had an arm around her waist in a most intimately platonic manner. Lord Longbottom was seated beside her feet, stretching his good leg out as far as it could go. Sitting upon the table (I had to supress a cringe, and made a mental note to remind my cleaning staff to use cleansing water upon the spot) and hovering protectively above her lower body was Lord Malfoy. He taken both their bags upon himself, though I had a suspicion that Lady Granger would retrieve hers one way or another.

Bill, the pony retrieved from the little village of Bree, was to be their beast of burden. A great many of extra things were piled upon him, ranging from blankets to extra foodstuffs. Mr. Gamgee was beside the pony, muttering himself over all he had packed. It was rather humorous.

Lord Greenleaf was standing tall and stately, flicking insults that went far over his dwarf conversation counterpart's little red head. Boromir was fingering the Horn of Gondor, off in thought. He had already blown the blasted thing in a moment of foolishness, who knows what other idiotic things he could attempt.

Estel had his head bowed to his knees, knowing that this would be the last time he would be in this house, the last time he would see my Arwen. I suppose this was hard for him to deal with.

Eventuially, the lot moved outside, and I went back into the home to get Mirthandir. The old man was loitering beside the door, trying to stowe more pipe weed into his magiced pouch. I restrained a snort as I pushed him out the door.

I met the company at the gate, finding Lady Granger had taken Lord Greenleaf's arm. I gave him a probing glance.

"The others cannot see as well as I in times like these," he murmured. "I have volunteered to assist her - for now."

Taking the explaination in stride, I gave the entire Fellowship my fullest attention.

"This is my last word. The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest to Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in the gravest of need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy it will be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further tha you will. For you do not yet know the strength of you hearts, and you cannot forsee what each may meet upon the road."

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," the dwarf said. It was probably the most informative piece he'd ever given.

"Maybe," said I, "but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall."

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart." Was that his second attempt at being ingenious? If so, he failed.

"Or break it. Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessing of the Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

Bilbo gave his goodbye, and then they were off. The last I saw of the Fellowship was the back of their fluttering cloaks as they faded into the twilight.

And so the fate of Middle-Earth left Imilaris. May this not become a sorrowful moment in the history of Elves and Men.


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